


Not as bleak as it looks like

by meinposhbastard



Series: Not as bleak as it looks like [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 16:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4486431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard/pseuds/meinposhbastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam really needs a break from all the stress. He really needs to stop drinking mug after mug of instant coffee and surf the Internet like the expert procrastinator that he is.</p><p>What he really needs is in Yellowknife, Northwest Territories, in the form of a short guy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not as bleak as it looks like

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Linnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linnet/gifts).



> It's 1am here and I can't think more tags past the human!au. I'll probably add them later... if some come up to me.
> 
> But that's not important!
> 
> Guess who's legal now? Yeah, R is! XD Now you can get legally wasted *cackles like a sleepy maniac*  
> Happy legalday, R! XD May you be a child forever! (we'll go find Peter Pan later!)

**1**

Sam Winchester’s life was heading into a direction it most certainly wasn’t in any of his plans.

Thirty-one years old and four books later, he found himself wading through the murky waters that were his last two months before he hit the deadline and fighting with the biggest writer’s block he had ever had since he dedicated himself to writing.

So far, he had the last three chapters to write before he could send the draft to his editor. That was five weeks ago.

Being a full-fledged bachelor and living on his own wasn’t certainly a winning combination, not when his only income were his books and the occasional call from schools to stand in for a sick teacher. That was not the life he envisioned for himself when he finished his University, majoring in English Literature.

He wasn’t doing good so far. In fact, on top of scrambling his brains to make ends meet by the end of each month, worrying over his writing, he was also feeling down as of lately.

Suffocated.

There were days when he didn’t even want to get out of bed, because facing reality was just too much to cope with. But he had to keep writing, because his book wasn’t going to write by itself. Those days were ugly and bleak. They were also the ones when Sam spent more time browsing the Internet and drinking mug after mug of instant coffee, without writing as much as a sentence.

He didn’t even have friends. New city, new life. That was what he told himself when he finished his degree and moved a few states over. Dean hadn’t been over enthusiastic knowing that if he wanted to see his little brother he’d have to driver for a couple of days to get there.

But they kept in touch with one another. Every two or three days he’d call Dean or Dean would call him and they would talk about everything and nothing at all. Those conversations were Sam’s highlight of the day, though his brother didn’t know. No point telling him that he was more holed up in his Batcave of an apartment than getting out and breathing fresh air.

He did that, too. Only not so often as people might believe and always in the late evening or early in the morning.

So yeah, Sam’s life wasn’t made of roses and sunshine, but he was pushing forward. At some point, somewhere, something was bound to give. He was just patiently waiting for that moment to come.

And it certainly didn’t take long for that moment to pay Sam a visit.

Only it wasn’t in the form of a person, but a mail received from someone living in the Northwest Territories. He became a member to this international exchange program on organic farms two years ago, but he never had time to participate anywhere.

So it came as a surprise to read that this person from North Canada would be interested to have him as a volunteer in their house. There was nothing in the list of things he’d be required to do that Sam didn’t know or didn’t have at least an idea. They were pretty easy, although he’s never tried his hand at pruning.

Lucky him that the guy (because his name was Gabriel Milton) would also be happy to help guide him through everything.

Well, if Sam wasn’t the self-proclaimed atheist that he was, he would have said that Someone up there bestowed a smile in his direction.

Thinking about his actual situation and his savings, he had just enough to get there by plane. Good thing that he wouldn’t have to think about food and accommodation as all of that would be on his host. But what he actually thought about was the fact that this just proved to be the necessary opportunity he needed to get out of his cave and meet new people, do something other than consume instant coffee and lazing around on the Internet.

As he said, those last chapters wouldn’t certainly write by themselves. It takes dedication and a lack of procrastination. He did those in reverse, which put his editor hot on his trail. In every other situation, Sam was capable to react in stressful situations, but when it was about writing, his creativity just short-circuited and that was it.

Hitting send with his affirmative answer to the offer, Sam swiveled on his chair with a big grin on his face. This was it. His own coming of age.

But of course, he was speaking nonsense and he still had to book his flight for next week and prepare his luggage. And warn Dean and his editor that he wouldn’t be reachable for the next six weeks. Also warn his landlord that he wouldn’t he home. Then pay the bills for the next month. Check the weather in Yellowknife where his plane would land. Make sure his visa hadn’t expired.

A hell of a lot of things he had to do and little time at his disposition.

Better get to work, then.

\---

He didn’t even feel when they landed, until the screech of tires on asphalt and the resulting tremors alerted him that they were on land once again. Sam wasn’t afraid of flying, unlike Dean, but he always found his stomach fluttering uncomfortably when the plane started climbing in the air.

He didn’t encounter any problems at the check-out and soon he took his luggage from the baggage carousel in the luggage claiming area and moved towards the exit doors. There weren’t a lot of people swarming around in the airport, or waiting in front of the Arrivals, because it was mid March, which meant low season for Yellowknife.

So it wasn’t hard for Sam to spot his full name written on what looked like a piece of a cardboard box, held by a short guy.

Yep, definitely way shorter than Sam.

“Hey, you must be Gabriel.” Sam stopped in front of him, smiling politely.

Gabriel blinked at Sam’s chest and then slowly, comically so, he lifted his head until he met Sam’s gaze.

“And you must be my new minion, Samoose.” His eyes _twinkled_ , Sam could swear they did.

“Very funny.”

Gabriel put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not the one competing to be the next Empire State Building.” He binned the piece of cardboard box and sauntered across the airport towards the exit, leaving Sam to trail after him.

Well, as first meetings went, this one went both good and bad, and he didn’t even know which was which. He wasn’t sure what to think of his host, besides snarky, short and lively and with a side of confidence the size of that airport.

But he had no time to dwell on it, because he was putting his luggage and camping backpack into the trunk of a white 2008 Jeep Grand Cherokee. It looked new, but getting into the passenger seat he spotted places where the dashboard was indented or had marks, and the seats looked worn-out and faded here and there. Not so new, then.

“So, Sammy boy, what made you take up my offer?” Gabriel asked as they got out of the airport’s parking lot. The heating was on and Sam was keeping his hands up at the round exit next to his car door to get the chill out of his fingers. He didn’t bring any gloves.

“A change of scenery,” he answered honestly.

“That’s it?”

“And the hope that I’ll find my inspiration once again.”

That got a questioning eyebrow up. “You a comic book artist?”

“No, I’m a writer.” Sam frowned slightly at Gabriel. “What made you think I was an artist?”

“Last year I had a comic book artist, named Kevin, come and help me around. He, too, was trying to fight his way back from his lack of inspiration. Poetry, fiction or non-fiction?” he asked almost in the same breath.

“Fiction,” Sam answered after a confused moment.

“Genre?”

“Mostly thriller with a side of mystery, but now I’m trying my hand at horror. It’s not going as well as I envisioned it would.”

“Nah, you’ll get right back on track in no time. You’ll see. Kevin returned after the third week ‘cause he didn’t bring with himself all the materials he needed to draw so he was reduced to sketches using the coals from my hearth. So I’ll warn you beforehand, this place is magical.”

Sam snorted.

“No, I mean it. You never get bored here, not even during the low season. There’s always something to see or do, and the scenery is not bad either. It’s impossible to not find your muse again.” He winked and Sam chuckled.

“So now I have a muse. I never referred to my inspiration as a muse, least of all a she.”

Gabriel shrugged. “Your inspiration could be a he and the picture of Obama, for all I know. It isn’t necessary for it to be a girl. But I know that writers usually like to give a gender to the abstract.”

“Not me.”

Gabriel shrugged again. “Then I apologize for assuming.”

“It’s okay.” Sam smiled. “So, how far away do you live from Yellowknife?”

“‘Bout two hours on a sunny day and three during a snowstorm.”

Sam frowned. “Isn’t it dangerous to drive during a snowstorm?”

Gabriel smirked. “It usually is. But when you have a SUV and an emergency, you don’t have that many options but to brave the capricious weather and pray that you won’t be buried under a mountain of snow.”

“And do you get many emergencies?”

“Not so much since Faust’s broken hind leg healed.”

“Who’s Faust?”

“My Siberian Husky,” he said with a proud smile.

“Other than your dog, do you have any other animals?”

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’. “Though I had two goats at one point four years ago.”

“What happened?” Sam asked, because he couldn’t quite picture Gabriel tending to goats.

“I realized I wasn’t a natural goat owner,” he said with a chuckle. “And that I couldn’t bring myself to kill them for their meat. In the end they died of old age.”

“So you stopped at one dog and horticulture.”

“Yeah, because I have some awesome green thumbs here.” And he wiggled said thumbs in midair to show Sam that he wasn’t kidding.

“I believe I’ll get to see those green thumbs of yours put to work pretty soon, then.”

“You bet you will,” he said with the same smirk, turning on a snowed-in road, flanked by tall pines.

At the end of it, a snow-covered house with what looked like either a storage room or a garage built glued to its left side, greeted them as Gabriel pulled over. The snow had been pushed away that morning, and it scrunched under Sam’s boots when he got out.

Settling in didn’t take him much. Gabriel showed him to his room on the second floor of the cabin slash house Gabriel owned. It was rather simple. The ground floor held a nice living room with a fireplace to his left, the kitchen in the back and the wood stairs climbing up to the second floor with its balcony.

Upstairs, there were only two bedrooms with one small bathroom opposite them, so they would have to share. Downstairs, on the small corridor that led to the back of the house and what Gabriel said was his own piece of heaven, there was another bathroom, but this one had only a sink and a toilet.

All in all, Gabriel’s house proved to be cosy and well lived-in. Sam’s bedroom was simple, but warm and entirely made of wood. He felt like he lived in a cabin, although this was a mix between a normal house and a cabin.

He had a desk right under the window that looked over in the woods and the slim closet was situated to the left, right besides his queen bed. Opposite it there was a small black coach. The only piece of furniture that seemed to have come with the nightstand. He even had a vintage standing coat rack right besides the door, which was almost hilarious.

None of the objects in his room seemed to blend in with one another. They looked like a collage of styles.

“All settled in?” Gabriel appeared in the doorway.

Sam was just putting his trolley near the desk. He’d take his time to unpack later. “Yeah, all settled in.” He smiled.

Gabriel studied his expression for a few moments, then he returned the smile ever so slowly. “Good. Lunch’s ready. I hope you’re hungry because we’re having stew.”

Sam’s mouth twitched as he followed Gabriel out of the room. “First day and we already eat meat? Wasn’t this an organic farm?”

“If you grow vegetables in your backyard doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to eat meat.”

“True,” Sam said with laughter in his voice.

Gabriel didn’t turn around to look at him, not even when they entered the kitchen. “Good. Now take a seat and marvel at the deliciousness that is my speciality.”

“You cooked your speciality on the day I arrive. Does that mean that I’m special?” Sam tried to hide the smile. He was unsuccessful.

“Already cheeky and you didn’t even start yet.” Gabriel faked a shocked expression, complete with a hand on his heart.

Sam shrugged. “I give as good as I take.”

Gabriel took a seat opposite Sam at the small kitchen table after he made sure that everything they needed was already there. “Then we’ll be as thick as thieves in no time.” He smirked.

“That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, so I’ll have you know beforehand that I don’t break the law,” Sam offered before taking a bite from his stew. To say it was divine, would have been an understatement. He didn’t give Gabriel the satisfaction to know that, because he had a feeling he wouldn’t hear the end of it.

“And I don’t preach the Word of God,” Gabriel retorted, watching him closely for any indication that he liked the stew, but Sam was aware of it so he kept his features schooled.

Sam didn’t comment afterwards. The stew was too good to sneak in words or sentences between the bites.

**2**

It was strange to wake up in a bed that was not his own and blinking up at an unfamiliar ceiling. Something must have jolted him awake, because the sun was not even up, which cast the room in an eerie predawn light. Checking his phone’s clock, he was proven right: 5.04 am.

But his groan was swallowed up when two sets of pounds land on his door and he was out of the bed, before he could consciously think about it.

“Sam! Come on, lazy head. We’ve--” Gabriel trailed off, hand raised mid-air and poised to knock again. A devilish grin stretched on his face as he took in Sam’s night attire _very_ slowly. “Someone’s fond of Robin. Does that make me your Batman.”

And, okay, this was too early for double-entendre comments in Sam’s book. He blinked owlishly at Gabriel, processing what the man just said.

“Not fond of Robin,” he mumbled, still fighting the sleep. He passed his hand through his hair, taming it easily. Gabriel followed his every move, grin still plastered on his face. “And Batman’s taller.”

An affronted look morphed his features. “I’ll have you know that Batman comes in all sizes and shapes, mister!”

“Then I can’t be Robin,” Sam said, crossing his arms. “Batman’s always taller than Robin.”

“Not in my house,” Gabriel deadpanned, jaw set in a and-this-is-final look and Sam realized that they’d been having an argument over Batman and Robin’s socially accepted heights.

He scrubbed the tar from his eyes again, feeling more awake than five minutes ago. “Did you wake me up this early to argue over who’s taller than whom between Robin and Batman?”

“Nuh, that was all you, big guy.” He smirked when Sam threw him an unimpressed look. “I woke you up because we’ve got work to do.”

Sam’s eyebrows climbed a notch on his forehead. “What kind of work requires us to wake up at the crack of dawn?”

“The kind that’s bordering on being illegal.” Gabriel was entirely too giddy about the prospect of doing something that could result in a trip to the police station.

“Gabriel, I’m not breaking the law!”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say illegal. I said bordering.”

“Yeah, but then you added illegal.”

“Semantics.” He fluttered a hand dismissively.

“Gabriel.” Sam stressed the word.

“Sam,” he parroted back and then rolled his eyes again. “C’mon. I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds like.”

“I don’t have any past experience to base that on.”

“Then let this be that past experience.”

“If blue and red lights suddenly start flashin--”

“You run.”

“I’ll make sure you won’t be able to walk straight for the rest of your life!”

“You should buy me dinner before thinking of any horizontal tango, big boy,” Gabriel drawled, grinning with too much gusto. “C’mon, we need to be back before the day breaks. And make sure you put on winter clothes that leave you a wide range of motion. This work requires muscles.” He sauntered away, leaving Sam sighing in defeat and going back inside to pull on his thickest winter garments he possessed.

\---

“Gabriel, I’m pretty sure this is illegal in more states that I can count.”

“Oh, shush, you wuss. Here, help me load this into the truck.”

They’ve actually been cutting pines for Gabriel’s fireplace and other usages. And they haven’t been kidding, either. The pile of trunks and bare branches were way over the truck’s borders, kept from falling over by four iron poles, two on each side. Gabriel installed them somewhere in the wee hours of the night.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Sam asked as he threw another half-trunk onto the pile.

“This is the last one,” Gabriel announced as he loaded another one. “And sleep is for the weak. Let’s go.”

Sam sighed, but followed Gabriel back inside the truck. He was freezing. It was true that cutting and loading tree trunks kept the cold at bay, but staying still for more than five minutes didn’t prove to be a good idea.

“I hope you have a good explanation to give to an officer if we encounter one on our way back,” Sam said, heating up his hands as Gabriel was driving in reverse to get back on the forest road.

Gabriel snorted. “Calm down, Sambo, we won’t meet any police officer. This is pretty much part of my property.”

Sam balked. “Are you saying we stole from yourself?” Gabriel bursted out laughing at this. “Okay, that didn’t make much sense.”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking all along? That we were stealing trees from someone’s property?”

“More like from the government’s… ?”

Gabriel chuckled and shook his head. “No. Everything around here on a few hundred miles radius belongs to the Yellowknife’s community, which means that belongs to the people living here. Everyone can go and cut wood for their fireplaces whenever they want to, but they have to declare the number of trees taken down and the area they cutted from back to the town hall, so that when the week of planting trees comes, we’ll all go and plant the number of trees we took. And before you ask about it, no, we don’t lie about how many trees we take out, because we all know that that’d be in our detriment. We all need wood for the long and harsh winters, so no point in lying.”

“That’s… brilliant, actually.” Sam was baffled by the trust these people had in each other.

“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel smirked.

\---

It was half past seven when they arrived at Gabriel’s house.

As soon as he finished helping Gabriel unload the truck, Sam was inside, almost glued to the fireplace (Gabriel had kept it going all night, because apparently he didn’t sleep a wink). He had doubts he would be able to get used to those freezing temperatures. He threw another log in, because the fire was slowly dying out and rubbed his hands together.  

Gabriel got inside after calling the town hall and informing them of his little trip in the woods, and went straight into the kitchen.

“We didn’t actually need to go there before dawn,” Sam said contemplatively when Gabriel returned to the living room, placing something on the low, wood table in front of the two armchairs.

“No, but it was fun to watch you try to make sense of the situation.” Gabriel’s smirk bleeded into his tone of voice. “Here.” He handed Sam a tumbler and poured him a half of -- bourbon.

Freezing bourbon.

“Did you keep it in the freezer this whole time?

“All year ‘round,” Gabriel answered. “It’s the best way to fight off the cold without taking your clothes off.” He winked.

Sam frowned. That didn’t make much -- _oh_. The glint in Gabriel’s eyes was a dead giveaway of what the man was referring to. Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“To what do we toast?” Sam asked, watching as Gabriel half-filled his glass, too.

“To you passing the initiation test.”

“What initiation test?”

Gabriel lifted an eyebrow as if it should have been obvious and realization colors his features. “Yep, that’s right, kiddo. I do that every time someone comes around. It’s something me and Lucifer did every time he comes here.” Gabriel seemed to be lost in thoughts, so Sam clinked their tumblers and that shook Gabriel out of whatever memory his mind dredged up.

Sam took a sip, as he met Gabriel’s gaze. The drink burned down his throat, but he abstained from coughing.

“Who is Lucifer?” Sam asked neutrally and Gabriel went to sit down on one of the armchairs. He motioned for Sam to join him on the other one, which he did without being asked a second time.

He sank into the comfort of it with a contented sigh and took a moment to savour it. Or maybe that was the drink getting to his head, finally?

He felt so mellow and good.

“My older brother.” Gabriel said it as if he was confessing a sin. It piqued Sam’s curiosity, besides the unusual name he had the nagging feeling he already heard it somewhere else.

“Brother,” he repeated. Another sip of bourbon. _Oh_. “You don’t mean to say that the brother you’re talking about is--”

“Controversial poetist, Lucifer Milton. Yes, that’d be him. Though now he’s a journalist.” Gabriel didn’t look at Sam. Instead, his eyes stared into the mid-distance, lost and full of something Sam couldn’t quite name. “Or was. I honestly don’t know.”

The tinge of sadness hovered over Gabriel like a black cloud. When did the conversation turn so grim? Oh, yeah, when Sam asked about his brother.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Sam apologized for what was worth it.

Gabriel fluttered a hand dismissively. “It’s not like I could help it. Sooner or later you’d have discovered it. Glad we cleared that out.”

Moments passed. Sam had no idea what to say to steer the conversation away from the gloom it had stumble into.

“I have an older brother, too,” he voiced out unexpectedly. Seriously, that bourbon was making his tongue loose. “Dean. He’s older, but shorter than me.” He snorted and straightened up. He put the tumbler on the table, lest he got himself drunk. Not that he wasn’t on his way there, but there was a difference between tipsy and drunk. A difference he’d like to maintain.

“And he gives you hell for it,” Gabriel added, the mischievous glint returning in his eyes.

Good. This was good. Apocalypse averted. And he wasn’t even finding that thought ridiculous. It wasn’t like he knew Gabriel that well, but for some reason he thought that talking about his family wasn’t a favourite pastime of his.

“Sometimes,” Sam amended. “When the mood strikes. But he’s pretty cool about it. I have a cool brother.” He grinned widely and Gabriel stared at him.

“Well, at least yours didn’t write a twenty-three pages long poem in a dead language where he mocked all the most important events in the history of humanity,” Gabriel commented in what Sam could only define a grumpy tone. Yet, he could hear traces of fondness in there, alongside that glint in his eyes that Sam knew far too well.

It was the same Dean had whenever Sam did something to make his big brother proud.

Sam laughed. “I actually wrote an essay on that poem in my first year, arguing its case and bringing valid reasons why it could become school material.”

“Yeah?” Gabriel peeked up. “How did that go?”

“The professor failed me that semester.”

It was Gabriel’s turn to laugh. “That’s what you get for taking Lucifer’s side.”

Sam snorted. “He might have attracted every spiteful critique and the hate of most academicians with that poem, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t right. He’s just telling it as it is.”

Gabriel mulled Sam’s words over. He was watching the fire snap and twist lively in the hearth, nursing his drink. Sam found himself staring at his face more than he had any right to. But there weren’t any written rules on how much is socially accepted to stare at a person you know almost nothing about, just an unspoken rule regarding common sense.

Not that Gabriel seemed to be aware that Sam’s studying his face.

“Lucifer always delighted in telling the truth, no matter how harsh it was. He used it as a shield, but it didn’t always protect him.” Gabriel sighed. “He actually had a hard time overcoming all that hate he received for the poem. I don’t think he’s over it even now.”

Sam had read a couple of the harshest critiques addressed to the poem. The things people could come up with just because they didn’t like to be told to their faces that they were a bunch of hypocrites, misogynistic and racial dickheads (Lucifer used more elaborated phrases to say that). He shuddered. It was understandable that it got to Lucifer. No human being, no matter how many walls they put between themselves and the world, could have withstood that downpour of negativity.

“He’s always been this much against the world?” Curiosity bested him.

“Ever since our parents divorced, yes. But that’s a can of worms I’d appreciate it if we left sealed in the recesses of my mind.”

Sam fell quiet for a minute, content to just watch the fire crackling with hunger in the hearth.

“Do you love your brother?” And now let’s take a moment and wonder from where did that question come from.

Gabriel almost spluttered. He looked like he was about to, but he kept tight control over his reaction. “Don’t you think that’s a question a tad too personal for how much we know about each other?”

Sam smiled apologetical. “You’re right. Sorry. It came out of nowhere.” But Gabriel regarded him like he was weighing his options.

That piercing look was getting to Sam and he squirmed uncomfortably in the armchair.

“I do. Love him,” Gabriel exhaled, meeting Sam’s surprised gaze for a second before looking back at the fire. “No matter what stupid things he does, no matter how angry I am at him, no matter how much I fight with him over his damn reckless behaviour,” and in that moment, Sam could swear Gabriel’s eyes looked like they were made of wildfire, burning hot and all-consuming, “I still care about him.”

Sam’s breath quickened. So much force and passion behind those words.

He didn’t say anything more for a long period of time. The words still hovered over them even when they decided to go and tend to Gabriel’s plants. In a way, talking about Gabriel’s brother somehow strengthened their relationship. He was still not sure how or why, but it felt that way.

\---

He was becoming more and more restless as time passed by. The need to writer started to be felt in a way he didn’t remember it could feel.

He didn’t bring with him anything even remotely technological, least of all a pen and a notebook. Perhaps he thought that he wouldn’t need any of them, that he wouldn’t feel the itch and ideas tormenting him at night, no matter how tired he was.

It was true that working with Gabriel proved to be both a distraction and a joy. And it wasn’t because he was growing fonder of the snarky host as time passed by.

Days grew into a week, and a week morphed into two and he wasn’t getting any better. It felt like he was possessed, always twitching, limbs in constant movement. Gabriel even commented one day that he looked like he was on a sugar rush. But he couldn’t quite mask his concern under the smirk.

In the end, Sam found it necessary to explain to Gabriel why he couldn’t keep still for a minute. Strangely enough, Gabriel seemed to relax some. He wasn’t even aware that his stupid condition (he didn’t know he could have one, though) was worrying his host so much.

By the end of the second week Sam was seriously thinking taking up Kevin’s example with the coal. Only he’d be forced to either use the local newspaper Gabriel kept near the fireplace to start the fire or write on the walls of his room.

He wasn’t sure Gabriel would be delighted to come home one day and find scribbled words on his walls.

And Sam was out of options and still six week away from his departure.

No money, no going home earlier.

**3**

Monday morning Gabriel had to go into town to buy supplies for the kitchen and his garden.

It was eight o’clock in the morning and the sky was completely covered up with grey clouds. There was a snowstorm coming up, but Gabriel still wanted to go. At first, Sam thought that he was joking around, but no, Gabriel was as serious as a heart attack.

Sam argued with him, but there was no convincing him no matter how many sound arguments he brought up. So in the end, Sam watched him go with a long, suffering sigh, not before making sure that they had a secure way to contact each other no matter the weather.

Sam fiddled a bit with his radio station and when ten minutes have passed since Gabriel’s departure, he turned on his transmitter. They functioned with batteries.

“Checking in. Gabriel, are you there?”

Static. An acute sound interrupted it and then, finally, came Gabriel’s voice.

“ _It’s been ten minutes, Sam,_ ” he said, laughing. “ _I’m not dead._ ”

“Well, at least one of us is making sure the authorities will get to you should something happen, before you freeze to death,” he grumbled heatedly. “It’s already started here and I looked up the police station’s frequency, for precautionary purposes.”

Gabriel laughed harder. “ _You’re still not over me braving the storm._ ”

Sam replied with a flat, “No.”

Gabriel chuckled. “ _Don’t worry, Sammy. Here it’s still clear._ ”

“Bullshit,” Sam deadpanned.

“ _It was supposed to make you feel good,_ ” Gabriel replied, still on the notes of laughter. He was far too amused by Sam’s worry. The jerk.

Yes, they had come ways since they first met. Now they were at the stage where Sam called him names in his head each time he did something stupid. He was heading towards unlocking the next level: calling him names to his face. But he still had ways to go.

“White lies never do,” Sam retorted. “But at least now I know who I’ll berate for your reckless behaviour should you get trapped in the snow.”

“ _Oh, yeah? And who might that be?_ ”

“Lucifer.” Never mind that he never met the guy, for Sam they’re already on first name basis.

The radio transmitter falls quiet for a few seconds. Then a burst of static and laughter exploded from it and Sam lifted a bemused eyebrow at it, because Gabriel was not there to see it.

“ _Now that’s a scene I’d sell my soul to the Devil to see._ ”

Sam snorted. “And you wouldn’t have to search far for him.” Gabriel cackled on the other side.

“ _Okay, now I’ll have to leave you for a while. Better not use up the batteries,_ ” Gabriel said on a more serious tone.

“Yeah, better not,” Sam agreed. “I’ll check in with you in twenty.”

“ _Oh, c’mon! Give a guy time to jerk off in peace here._ ”

Sam rolled his eyes. Hard. But just to be obnoxious, he said, “I don’t know how that could be possible since you’re driving.”

“ _You don’t know a lot about me, Sam._ ” And even with the static interference, Sam could hear the sultry tone to Gabriel’s voice only too clearly.

Heat rose in his cheeks. “Be checking with you in twenty,” Sam repeated as calmly as he could and turned off the transmitter.

What was that? Was Gabriel trying to be more obvious with his flirty comments? Because that was how Sam was reading it.

Twenty minutes later, neither brought up anything from the previous conversation. Gabriel arrived in Yellowknife two hours and a half later and the snowstorm was in full swing above Gabriel’s property. Faust was sitting comfortably on Sam’s feet, near the fireplace, and they both listened as the wind howled outside.

Surprisingly, Faust took to Sam almost immediately after Gabriel presented them. The dog loved to always be in contact with a human, so he was never absent from their daily activities around the house. He was as lively as his master, and Sam loved the fact that Faust had eyes of different color: one brown and one blue. It made him all the more special in Sam’s eyes.

Gabriel said that the storm was till a few miles away from the town, but he would surely catch it in full blast on the way back. Sam didn’t check in with him for an hour and a half, giving him time to buy what he needed to buy in peace.

He fed Faust and then made a quick lunch for himself, since Gabriel wouldn’t be home for at least another three hours. He put together ham, lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes and two slices of cheese in a mouth-watering sandwich even Dean wouldn’t be able to stay away from, no matter how much vegetables he put in.

Twenty minutes later he turned on the radio transmitter.

“Checking in. Gabriel, are you there?”

Static.

No response.

“Gabriel? Are you all right?”

More static.

Still no response.

That was strange. Gabriel said he would keep the radio on himself at all times, yet he wasn’t answering Sam’s calls.

He frowned at the radio transmitter. Maybe he was just chatting with some town citizen or was too lost in his thoughts to hear him. He placed the radio on the low table and made himself as comfortable as he could in his armchair. It became his over the weeks.

As soon as he caught Faust staring at him, the dog whined softly and wiggled his tail in slow arcs.

“It’s okay buddy,” he said, scratching his head. Faust was all too happy to receive comfort from Sam “Come here.” He patted his lap, motioning for the Husky to climb there.

He never saw Gabriel offering this much comfort to the dog, but Faust was clearly as restless about Gabriel’s departure and the storm as Sam felt. He must have picked on Sam’s worry, because he never once moved more than a few inches away from Sam since Gabriel left.

He cuddled with Faust for a few minutes, trying to take comfort from the weight in his lap and the feeling of his thick coat, but the radio was stubbornly silent and that unsettled him more than it was normal.

But normal was relative when a snowstorm was raging outside and one’s friend would have to brave it to get home.

He leaned forward, grabbing the piece of plastic and metal and trying again to contact Gabriel.

No response once again.

This didn’t bode well.

By one o’clock, Sam managed to work himself into a near panic and there was no stopping the agitated pacing back and forth near the windows. The constant falling of the snow and the dim light outside didn’t do him any favor.

He tried again. The same non-response occurred.

In a fit of desperation he went to the kitchen and took the book with the police station’s frequency. Just as he started to fiddle with the radio station, a burst of static startled Sam’s heart into his throat and he almost dropped the transmitter on the floor.

“ _Hey, Sambo. All done here. Heading home, now._ ”

“Where the fuck have you been?!” Sam nearly shouted in the transmitter, nerves, anger and worry mingling together. His heart was about to burst out of his chest if he didn’t calm down.

Silence on the other side. Probably Gabriel was confused by Sam’s sudden outburst.

“Jesus, Gabriel.” He exhaled. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost an hour now, and you wouldn’t answer. I thought… I thought… _dammit_!”

He leaned forward, letting his forehead touch the transmitter in his hands and closed his eyes to try and calm himself down. Faust whined louder now, pushing his nose in his thigh. He took a few more seconds and then turned over to offer comfort and reassure the dog that he was all right. Faust rose on his hind legs, propping his front paws on Sam’s thighs and licked his face.

“I’m okay, buddy. I’m okay.”

“ _I’m so sorry, Sam,_ ” Gabriel’s voice came across the line, all soft and apologetic. “ _I forgot the transmitter in my SUV and by the time I remembered, I was already halfway into the gardening storage house. I’m sorry,_ ” he repeated, conveying how bad he felt to have made Sam worry so much.

Sam didn’t answer right way. In part, he was trying to be vindictive and give him a taste of his own medicine. On the other hand, he was coming down from the rush of adrenaline and worry and his brain was mush, which in turn made his limbs uncooperative.

He soaked up some more comfort from Faust. He was right there, licking his face and doing his best to cheer Sam up. Damn, how much he came to love this dog. He wasn’t so sure he would be able to go back to his dull apartment without him.

But Gabriel might not want to separate himself from his companion.

Then he’d just take both of them with him.

That startled Sam back to planet earth.

“ _Sam!_ ” Gabriel sounded like he had been calling him for some time now.

“I’m here, I’m here,” he replied, clearing his throat.

Gabriel said something that sounded suspiciously close to, “ _Thank God!_ ”, but the static overwhelmed those words or whatever they might have been.

“ _Are you still mad at me?_ ”

“What would you do if I was?” Sam asked, just to be difficult.

“ _Get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?_ ”

Sam snorted. “That would work with your wife.”

“ _But I don’t have a wife. I have you._ ”

And that right there was what put a halt to whatever thought process he’d been having. The worst thing was that Gabriel sounded more serious and genuine than he had heard him since they first met.

Gathering his courage and half-formed thoughts, he said as softly and calmly as he could, but still loud enough to get across to Gabriel, “You can’t say that to someone who’ll be gone in less than six week.”

A few seconds passed. “ _And I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it._ ”

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed. Faust sighed in his lap and Sam felt like he was a second away from bursting out into hysterical laughter.

“I’ll be checking in with you in twenty,” he said and turned off the transmitter.

This was all kinds of not good. There shouldn’t have been feelings involved in this whim-decision of his. This was supposed to be a de-blocking trip for his creativeness. A break from the stress, so that when he’d come back home he’d get right back to finish his book and not anger his editor more than he already did.

Leaving a voicemail on her phone is bound to be seen as a coward’s way out of a sure-fire lecture. But Sam was in a hurry to leave the stress behind, to just disconnect from everything and recharge his batteries.

His batteries were fully restored now, if the pool of ideas he had been thinking up at night was anything to go by. And to keep from losing them, he had been putting in extra effort to remember them, although something or other was bound to get lost on the way. It always did when he didn’t write the idea down immediately.

And then there was Gabriel.

He sighed, but then Faust copied him, and Sam couldn’t help the chuckles that escaped him.

“What’s up, buddy? You tired of Gabriel’s double-entender words, too? Because I am.” He stopped caressing Faust. The dog lifted his head immediately, looking as if he was asking Sam why did he stop petting him so soon. “Come on,” he urged Faust off his lap and took the transmitter with him, “let’s move somewhere more comfortable.”

He spend the rest of the three hours cuddling with Faust on the armchair and avoiding thinking about what Gabriel’s been hinting at. He checked in with him every twenty minutes as he promised, but they didn’t talk about anything important. At least not anything pertaining to what could or could not become their friendship.

He kept the fire stoked and somewhere around four in the afternoon he fell asleep, lulled in by the rhythmic howl of the wind and the soft sounds of snow hitting the windows and the house.

It was Faust’s sudden leap off of his lap that jerked him awake and for a confusing few moments he didn’t know where he was. Hearing Gabriel’s SUV in the garage, he returned to himself and stood up to follow Faust, who was already in front of the door that lead to the garage from inside the house. He open it and the dog sprinted outside to greet his rightful owner.

Gabriel was delighted to see him and bended down to let Faust lick his cheek. Sam moved silently around them and opened up the trunk of the car to get out the supplies. Gabriel stashed them neatly. Food supplies on the right, non-edible on the left. Though both were pretty small.

They worked silently, side-by-side, to unload the car. When they were all done, Sam shut the trunk and took the last sack of organic earth for plants.

“Sam?” Gabriel called out from where he was leaning inside the passenger seat. Sam left the bag against the wall near the door and rounded the car to get to Gabriel.

“Yeah?”

“I have something for you.” And when Gabriel emerged his hands held a typewriter. It looked old and well-used but ready to do the work of a writer. Sam’s eyes skittered from the typewriter to Gabriel and back again. “I remembered Lucifer brought it with him when I first moved here, a decade ago, and he never took it back. I don’t use it, so I had to take it into town and have it restored.”

Sam swallowed, the shock still marring his face. “Is this why you fought with me this morning?” His voice trembled over a couple of words, because this was too much.

Gabriel smiled -- he wouldn’t call it bashfully, because that was way beyond Gabriel, but the smile looked so damn genuine. “Guilty as charged.” He said it like a man who regrets nothing he had done in his life.

“You--”

“And you have paper, too,” he added, transferring the typewriter into Sam’s hands so that he could take the two stashes of A4 from the passenger seat. “I hope my walls are as pristine as I left them this morning, yes?”

Sam frowned. “How did you--”

“It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s going on in that little head of yours when you stare so hard at a wall. Followed by a glance at the fireplace and I couldn’t have had a more dead give away.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was chuckling, too. “Thank you,” he said, meaningful eyes at full blast. “I mean it. You didn’t have to do this--”

“But I care too much about the state of my walls to leave them in the hands of fate… or yours. So, yeah, I really had to do it.” He smirked.

Was really that the reason? Sam would like to ask, but he was too afraid of what answer he could get. He wasn’t a fatalist, even if he sometimes did things to warrant that term.

“Well, scurry away to play with your new toy.” Gabriel made a shooing gesture with his hand. “I’ll start dinner.”

Sam followed only half of that order. He went into his room to place the typewriter on the old desk and the paper near it. With another lingering look at the machine and the giddy feeling that he wouldn’t be forced to concentrate on recalling his ideas, he left his bedroom.

“What are you doing here?” Gabriel asked, when Sam appeared next to him and began shaking the salad leaves from water.

“Helping you with dinner,” Sam replied calmly.

“You know you don’t have to.”

“I also know that I can if I want to. And I want to.” Sam smiled at him and that seemed to shut Gabriel up.

They made and ate dinner in near silence. Occasional comments occurred over the next hour, but nothing Sam will remember. Their earlier conversation on the radio transmitter and Gabriel’s present (he couldn’t label it as anything but a present) took up most of his thoughts.

What were they doing there? Sam most certainly came there to help Gabriel with his daily activities outside and around the house. But Gabriel? He was acting like he had his own personal agenda he abided to. His own schedule, Sam was not privy to.

Over the course of the next days, thoughts of a different nature gnawed at him. Since Gabriel took care of the book-related ones, he was left most of the time he wasn’t writing to wonder about what Gabriel really wanted from him.

Because by now, Sam was sure that Gabriel wanted more than friendship from Sam. Not-so-casual touches at infrequent times of the day, odd comments that were too close to being obvious, prolonged stares every once in a while, all these occurrings proved what Sam had been turning around in his head since their last meaningful conversation.

The question was: did Gabriel want a one-night stand or did he want something more serious?

“Gabriel, we need to talk,” Sam spoke up suddenly, a couple of days after Gabriel’s trip in the town, when they were changing the earth of the potted plants.

“Is this about the fact that I put meat in every dish? Because I assure you I was thinking up some complicated Japanese dish I think I have all the ingredients for.”

“No, Gabriel. It’s not about that.” Sam kept the plant’s foliage from obstructing Gabriel’s view of the pot as he filled it with fresh earth. “It’s about us.”

That got Gabriel’s attention. He glanced at Sam. “Oh. Go on,” he said warily.

Sam thought that Gabriel would go into one of his talking-modes and save Sam the trouble to get out words and calling things on their name. No such luck, it seemed.

“What… do you want from me?” That sounded less harsh in his head.

Gabriel’s face was blank. Then confused. “Nothing?”

Sam sighed. “No, not like that. What _is it_ that you _want_ from _me_?” Not that stressing certain words of the same question would help the poor man understand what Sam was so stubbornly avoiding to say, but it was worth a shot.

“Friendship?” Gabriel tried again and Sam sighed in frustration. This was getting him nowhere.

“You hinted at something other than friendship the other day, but you haven’t brought it up ever since.”

Gabriel noded slowly, face still a constipation of not-fully-formed expressions.

“Damn it, Gabriel, can you stop being so difficult?” Sam snapped. “I’m trying to get everything in the open so that I can put a stop to all the thoughts I’ve been having!”

“You forget that my feelings are at stake, too,” Gabriel said, and proved to Sam in one sentence how good an actor he could be at times, and that he already knew what Sam was going to talk about, but left the hard part to him.

How could you not be at least a little bit angry with him?

“Gabriel, you do realize that I’m leaving in a month, right? We can’t jump straight into bed.”

“Why not?” He looked so annoyingly confused.

“Because I’m leaving.”

“Then don’t leave,” Gabriel said simply. “You love Faust and Faust adores you. I like you and you obviously like me.”

Sam stood up from his crouch and crossed his arms. “Since when is it so obvious that I like you?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes and followed Sam up. “Oh, c’mon, Sam. Let’s not beat around the bush. We’re both adults who know what they want, and that is in each other’s pants.”

So this was how he was going to play it? That was fine by Sam. He could be difficult, too.

“And what if I want something more than a fling? What if I wanted a relationship? Would you still talk so casually about it?”

Gabriel’s eyes widen, mouth ajar. “Is that what you really want?” he asked softly.

Sam stared at him for a while, trying to decide what kind of response he should give.

“Yes, that’s what I’d like,” he said at last, letting Gabriel see the emotions behind those words, before quickly schooling back his features. “But it’s clear that we’re not on the same page, so to avoid hurting each other and leave with sour memories, it’s better if we stop right here whatever we’ve been having going on.”

“What’s clear to me is that you’re no mind-reader,” Gabriel retorted, advancing on Sam and stopping a few inches from him. “I want you, Sam. That much I think it’s been obvious for a while now. What I didn’t even dare to think about was that you would want something more out of this. I was fully prepared to seduce you and have that one night of burning passion, or nights if you agreed to it, before I’d have to let you go.”

Sam swallowed, unable to break the eye contact Gabriel was leveling him with. He was like a hypnotic force field, a force of nature grander than Sam could possibly imagine.

“Now I realize how foolish I’ve been, thinking that I would’ve been satisfied with just a few nights. I desire you in more ways that I can count, because you’re everything I didn’t expect to find in a volunteer and everything I never knew I wanted in a life-partner.”

Sam balked. “Isn’t that preposterous?” Sam couldn’t help but ask, trying to ignore the gummy knees and crawling skin. He was so damn close, two breaths away from leaning down and kissing him. “Three weeks are not enough time to know for sure that you want to spend your entire life with me.”

“For me it is,” Gabriel stated with determination.

Sam exhaled shakily. “Okay, let’s think about this logically. What will happen when my six weeks are up? I have my flight booked already.”

“If you decide you’d want to give us a chance, then you’re free to stay here. And you don’t have to worry about the money you paid for the ticket. I’ll pay them back to you.”

“What if we find out that we’re simply not compatible and all of this was just our infatuation talking?”

“Then I’ll help you settle out somewhere else and hope that we’ll still remain friends.”

“What if you start to hate me for whatever reason?”

Gabriel released a short laugh. “I highly doubt that’ll happen in any kind of future. But if that were to happen, I respect you enough to tell you upfront and then solve it in the most human way possible.”

“What if you’re unfaithful?”

“Then you have my full permission to exact revenge in the most creative and nasty ways you can come up with, although I don’t think I’d want to climb any other tree that is not Sam Winchester.”

Sam rolled his eyes and huffed a laugh. “You have everything covered, huh?”

“Are you done with the what ifs? Can I kiss you, now?” Gabriel asked, a tinge of desperation in his voice as his eyes zero in on Sam’s lips. “‘Cause I’ve been having wet dreams about your lips and I’m reaching my patience’s limits.”

But it was Sam the one who leaned down and pressed his lips to Gabriel’s. Almost at the same time, Gabriel seemed to envelop himself around Sam like a giant octopus, if only the difference in limbs wouldn’t have been so great.

It was Gabriel the first to open up his mouth and let Sam lick and tease and play. Gabriel gave as good as he took and when he deemed that the playtime and probing was over, he attacked Sam’s mouth with such dedication and fervor, that Sam was taken aback by it. He didn’t step back, although Gabriel proved to be a veritable force of nature.

Faust barked at them when they started to moan obscenely and they broke the kiss laughing. The poor dog didn’t know what his two humans were up to, but he was wiggling his tail excitedly, because he could, at least, pick up on the happiness and light atmosphere.

They were good.

Sam’s optimism grew exponentially, although that could only be the rush of adrenaline and joy he was currently experiencing.

But all was good. Between them, with the world -- yeah.

\---

They actually didn’t jump straight into bed after that.

Surprisingly, it was Gabriel the one who told him that they should take it slowly, build romance on their friendship, and somehow that worked for Sam. Not that they couldn’t do the do if they so decided to, but Sam still had things to put in order with his old life back in L.A.

He returned home after those six weeks were up, just so he wouldn’t lose the money pointlessly. He still would have had to go back and take his belongings, be it now or at a later date. Gabriel made him swear on his just-finished book that he would return as soon as he would solve everything he needed to solve.

That level of cuteness warranted a kiss to commemorate all the kisses they’ve been partaking into.

“ _What? Are you fucking kidding me?!_ ” Dean screeched on the other side of the phone when Sam breaks the news that he’ll be living in Yellowknife. He didn’t fill in that many blanks, just enough to reassure his brother that he didn’t die in the gutter somewhere or under a snow avalanche. “ _How am I getting there?_ ”

Sam rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics. “With a plane.”

“ _Over my dead body,_ ” Dean deadpanned. “ _I’m not leaving Baby anywhere._ ”

“Don’t worry, bucko,” Gabriel piped in, because Sam put his phone on speaker. “We’ll come down to you. In a year or two.” Which made Dean splutter curses and outrage.

In the end Sam had to promise he’d come visit Dean in a month from then and not a day later to finally disconnect.

His editor yelled at him for only ten minutes, and Sam sent his thanks to a nameless, faceless entity out there for small mercies and all that. The yelling spanned over such a short period of time, because she was placated by Sam’s good news: his book was ready to be edited just in time to meet the deadline.

“All in all, it went well,” Gabriel commented from his armchair.

“Surprisingly well.” He looked at the phone in his hands as silence reigned for a couple of seconds.

“Ready to prepare that mix of vegetables you’ve been warning me about since you came back?” The smirk was challenging.

Sam responded in kind. “You’re not scared enough to warrant that much effort and gleeful dedication.”

Gabriel huffed, looking unimpressed. “Please. I work with those vegetables. I grow them. I make them be as delicious and juicy as they are. They won’t ever scare me.”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head fondly. “Come on, I’ll feed Faust and you get to prepare lunch.” He stood up and move towards the hallway to get Faust’s kibbles.

“As if I don’t do that everyday,” Gabriel grumbled not entirely off-put.

“I love you, too!” Sam called out from the small storage room.

Gabriel shook his head, fond smile quirking his lips, and went in the kitchen to make lunch.

**Author's Note:**

> Fun facts:  
> 1\. That organization actually exist. It's called [WWOF](http://www.wwoof.net/).  
> 2\. This fic wasn't planned. Like at all. I thought about this in the wee hours of night. I was sure that I wanted Sabriel with Sam!writer, and then I remembered about that site I stumbled upon some millennia ago and thought why-the-hell-not?!  
> 3\. I'm sleepy.  
> 4\. These were some pretty intensive 3 days of writing 10k... or almost. I didn't check. But that was the goal.  
> 5\. Boy, my eyes are falling shut.  
> 6\. This little shit made a baby, did you know? It's a threesomes PWP sequel I'll be posting tomorrow. I wrote it in 3 hours and I loved every minute, word and sentence of it!  
> 7\. All mistakes are my own.  
> 8\. Okay, off to sleep I go.
> 
> R, I hope you're not too hangover to read this. But if you are, read it anyway. Don't throw up on the keyboard, though.


End file.
